


Used, Spent, and Forever Mine

by CaptainOfRippedShirts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Ambiguous Relationships, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dark Fantasy, Dom Peter Hale, Dom/sub, M/M, Objectification, POV Stiles Stilinski, Sane Peter Hale, Spanking, Stiles Stilinski Has Sex, Sub Stiles Stilinski, because technically Stiles has no idea who his Alpha is, stiles wants to be used hard by somebody, the promise of cock and ball torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOfRippedShirts/pseuds/CaptainOfRippedShirts
Summary: All he's ever wanted, for as long as he can remember, is to be used, hard, and put away wet by a powerful Alpha.So when he finds the ad on Wolf's List promising him just that, well, of course he has to answer it.Stiles just wasn't expecting his Alpha to be someone he knew.





	Used, Spent, and Forever Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FandomCares. Huge thanks to Ryan for not only donating but being so patient in waiting for me to finally post this! Hopefully it's worth the wait - you're amazing! <3
> 
> The specific prompt was: "Stiles answering an ad online proposing that he go to a location, get blindfolded and stripped, be taken to somewhere else, be used and abused, and then be dropped back at his jeep. Of course, it would be Peter's ad."
> 
> Technically the way it's written, it's ambiguous as to who Stiles met up with, but it was written with Peter in mind! ;)

_\--_

_it’s a dark night._  
_i send you a location._  
_you arrive, alone, and park._  
_i’ll be waiting._  
_you’ll open the back passenger door_  
_and wait_  
_until i come out of the darkness._  
_you’ll be blindfolded,_  
_stripped,_  
_bound,_  
_and put in my backseat_  
_for me to take wherever i please._  
_in my lair,_  
_i’ll feed you my cock._  
_i’ll torment you however i desire._  
_i’ll make you mine._  
_when i’m done_  
_if you’ve been good, i may even_  
_please you._  
_and then, i’ll return you_  
_to the night,_  
_used, spent, and_  
_forever mine._

 --

Stiles parks the car in the dimmest corner of the lot. It doesn’t do much to help disguise his ridiculously bright-colored car but it gives him a false sense of security and that’s enough for now. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tightens his grip on Roscoe’s creaky steering wheel until his knuckles hurt.

Part of him - a surprisingly rational part of him - is screaming about what a bad idea this is. He knows nothing about the person who’ll be picking him up except that he has nice hands. If his pictures are to be believed. If the pictures are even real.

Fuck, this is a bad idea on so many levels.

A Monumentally Bad Idea™ that doesn’t seem to be stopping his cock from chubbing up in his jeans. His balls are already throbbing with just the _idea_ of the torture Stiles’s anonymous paramour has promised. The plug he had worked into his tight hole has him spread just right and each time he shifts, it teases against his prostate but offers no real relief.

No matter how bad an idea this may be, Stiles knows that this is what he wants. What he’s wanted for as long as he can remember being able to want something like this. He’s often imagined the scrape of rough, calloused hands pinning him into place and taking what they want from him; dreamed of coming, completely untouched, as a thick cock stretches him wide and uses him for his Alpha’s pleasure.

A couple of years ago, he had even made a post about it on _Wolf’s List_ \- an anonymous online board where people posted their darkest, wildest supernatural fantasies either in the hopes of finding someone to live out their fantasies with or just to get it off their chests - but, after a day of increasingly disturbing “offers” and several panic attacks, he had deleted it and stuck to lurking on the site instead.

Until last week. When he had been idly scrolling through the fantasies on a sleepless night and had come across a post offering...well. Offering exactly what he had always wanted.

Something about the oddly hypnotic and poetic tone of the post had compelled him to do something he had never done in all the years he had lurked in the Wolf’s List message boards. Something about the way the words had just...flowed together made him tap on that dark little “reply” button. Maybe it was the clear command the Alpha poster had; maybe it was the tantalising tease of fulfilling his dreams; whatever it was, Stiles had eventually exchanged several messages with the poster - each one just as hypnotic as the post.

Now he’s sitting, alone, in a deserted parking lot at 2A.M., staring across the asphalt at the high-end SUV parked on the other end of the lot. It’s the only other car around and Stiles knows exactly what he’s supposed to do next. He’s just...temporarily frozen in place as the magnitude of what he’s about to do sinks into his mind in a way it hadn’t when they were just messaging about it. He suddenly feels like he’s in a dream; like he’s floating through a world that doesn’t truly exist; like _he_ doesn’t truly exist.

His phone buzzes in the cup holder and he jumps in surprise, finally letting go of the steering wheel. He fumbles with the screen, messing up his pass-code twice, before finally opening it to the email waiting for him.

_Don’t keep me waiting, pet. I want to ruin that pretty mouth of yours.  
-Alpha_

Saliva pools in his mouth and he swallows, hard, heart threatening to pound out of his chest. He should have known the guy was watching him. They’re the only two people in the damn lot. His fingers smear a bit of sweat across the screen as he taps out a quick reply to his anonymous friend. (Heh, friend. His friends would _maim and kill_ this guy if they knew what this “friend” was going to do to Stiles.)

_Sorry, sir. I’m coming now._

He forces himself to take another couple of deep breaths as he fumbles with his keys, shoving them into his pocket. His phone buzzes again but he can’t bring himself to look at it. Whatever it says will just psych him out even more.

His footsteps echo across the empty lot and he can acutely feel the eyes of his Alpha for the night following his every move. The guy can probably smell his fear and arousal; can probably hear the way his heart won’t settle down. He rubs his sweaty palms against his sweats - the Alpha is going to strip him naked and had instructed him to wear easy to remove clothes - and licks his lips as he gets closer to the SUV.

The back passenger door is already open and Stiles can see there’s no one in the car - just as the Alpha promised. A low growl reaches his ears, coming from somewhere behind him, and he tenses. In anticipation, in fear, in arousal, a myriad of emotions he can’t really pinpoint as large, rough hands are suddenly yanking him back against a firm body.

No words are spoken but a blindfold slips over his eyes, encasing him in a darkness more complete than the moonless night. Unbidden, a whimper escapes him, tongue darting out to wet his lips yet again.

“Shh, Little Red.” A raspy whisper quiets him and a distant part of his mind notes that there’s something familiar about the voice. But the use of the name he used in his exchanges with the Alpha only makes his heart race even faster. He feels more than hears the Alpha chuckle, one broad hand stroking down along Stiles’s chest.

The sound of ripping cloth echos in the quiet night and suddenly Stiles can feel chilled air against his bare skin. Goosebumps break out over his chest, his breath catching in the back of his throat. His pants receive the same treatment before he’s shoved forward, somehow simultaneously rough and tender. A moan escapes him as he lands, chest first, against the smooth leather of the backseat.

Before he knows it, his hands are bound behind his back with some kind of soft rope. His ankles get the same and then he’s shoved up onto the car properly, face-first against the cool seat. The door slams shut, leaving him, ostensibly, alone in the back of the SUV.

He can’t see anything and, perhaps the truly disconcerting part, he can’t hear anything either. There’s an oddly settling quiet in the car, broken only by the sound of the driver’s door creaking open and shut before the engine purrs to life. Stiles jolts as the car begins to move, taking him away from his own car, towards whatever fate this stranger has in store for him.

Only then does he realise that, just maybe, he hasn’t thought this through. And he honestly doesn’t even care.

\--

The humming of the car under him and the soothing darkness over his eyes lulls Stiles into a sense of safety and calm he hasn’t felt in, well, years. Not since he was a kid, before he touched death; before he learned of the supernatural; before werewolves and kitsunes and sparks; before he stood face-to-face with real monsters; before he became a monster himself. A safety he hasn’t known since before he knew of the true darkness lurking in the night. It’s almost enough to coax him into a deep sleep but he can’t quite ignore the soft want and arousal singing through his veins; not when relief is so close at hand.

He’s pulled from his idle musings when the car suddenly slides to a stop and the back door is once again opened. No words come from his “captor” for the night but Stiles doesn’t need any words. Not when his Alpha is hoisting him up into his arms and carrying him away from the car.

His Alpha drops him face-first onto a surprisingly soft bed, hoisting Stiles’s hips up into the air and, without warning, spanking him across his bare ass. Stiles jerks, a whimper escaping him even as his Alpha spanks him again, sending pinpricks of delicious pain sparking across his skin.

A low growl fills the air behind him and Stiles can’t - won’t - repress his shiver. He sucks on his lower lip, eyes darting back and forth under the blindfold in a vain attempt to see something beyond the blackness. There isn’t even a hint of light. Either the blindfold is just that good or his Alpha is relying on those keen werewolf senses.

He can’t help but hope it’s the latter.

Stiles cries out when his Alpha spanks him again, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“You’re thinking too much, Little Red,” his Alpha purrs and, for a moment, Stiles is positive he recognises that raspy voice sending shivers down his spine, but another firm swat has all coherent thought flying out of his head.

He savours the flash of pain for a brief moment before his Alpha is flipping him over, a calloused hand gripping the base of his cock. A desperate whimper fills the air even as he arches up into the rough touch.

A low, throaty chuckle reaches Stiles’s ears just before his balls are awash with pain that floods his whole system. The grip around them is ironclad and everything he’s ever wanted.

“Oh, you’re going to be beautiful to break, _Stiles_.”

Just as he’s again hit with the idea that he knows this voice he realises his Alpha just _used his real name_. He _knows_ this Alpha; there’s only a select few this could be. Stiles’s mind races, trying to connect the dots, to figure out who is controlling him, but the pain in his cock and balls is too much.

His Alpha chuckles again, the vaguely familiar sound reaching for something deep in Stiles’s chest, as if his Alpha is trying to become one with Stiles through sound alone. Stiles gasps, chest heaving as he tries to breath in and speak; to ask who the fuck his Alpha is. All that comes out is a broken cry as his Alpha drags the tips of his claws along Stiles’s leaking cock, scratching just enough to cause pain without breaking skin.

“ _Breathe_.” The order sinks into Stiles’s mind, settling under his skin like a living tattoo that has the human forcing himself to breathe normally. His heart is still hammering in his chest but suddenly, knowing he knows his Alpha, that those hands are hands he’s probably touched before, is sending fresh flashes of heated arousal through his body.

Still, he desperately wants to know and he can’t stop himself from opening his mouth to ask _who_ he’s submitting to tonight. The claws on his cock shift, delicately cradling his tender balls right in their sharp points as his Alpha growls low in his chest. “Stop asking questions, Little Red, and just _be mine_.”

The Alpha’s other hand comes up to wrap around Stiles’s throat, holding him place and just barely cutting off Stiles’s air. Stiles shivers against his Alpha, goosebumps breaking out over his bare skin, and obediently falls quiet for once in his life.

“Good pet.” The quiet, rewarding affirmation is enough to make Stiles’s cock twitch against the Alpha’s nails, and make him fall deeper into his desperate need to please his Alpha. He digs his nails into his palms and just...lets himself fall into the pain; into his Alpha; into his living fantasy.

_Fin._

_(Or is it?)_


End file.
